A Girl Alone
by Victoria Nope
Summary: Being the only female guard in an all male prison is hard sometimes...especially when you work in Fox River penitentiary.
1. Intro and Chapter One

_**Intro**_

While most little girls wanted to be princesses, damsels in distress, or models, I dreamt about working in a prison. Odd, I know, but hey, it sounded like fun, and for the most part, it's pretty exciting. That is, until the Warden at Clear Trail penitentiary decided my talents were best used over at Fox River.

Did I forget to mention that Clear Trail is a facility that houses both men _and_ women, while Fox River only has men? That means working nine hours a day in constant danger, not that Clear Trail is any easier, but at Fox River, I'll be the _only_ female guard working there.

Did I forget to mention that too? Must be fear messing with my mind. Being a guard doesn't make you inhuman, you know.

_**Chapter One: Integrating a Female into the Mix**_

My heart did back flips, somersaults, cartwheels, and a whole gymnastic routine in my chest as I entered the gate on my first day at Fox River. I managed to keep a blank face, thankfully, and a cool, detached demeanor as I walked to the Warden's office, hopefully projecting confidence and strength. I hummed the song Three Libras by A Perfect Circle under my breath, but it kept trailing off into Weak and Powerless (another APC song), and that was definitely _not_ how I wanted to feel right now.

I knocked softly on the Warden's door, and entered, putting on a professional smile as I shook his large hand. He explained the schedule to me, and handed me the uniform I was supposed to wear (a dark blue button up shirt and matching pants), then gave me my name tag that read** K. Stokstad**. K. stood for Kane, which was my middle name, my first being Jaclyn, but I only ever went by Kane these days.

I nodded thanks to him. "I have a separate place set aside for you to change, just go down the hall, and take the last door on the right." He added as he shook my hand again.

"Thank you, Warden, I'll change immediately and get to work." I left, followed the instructions, and found a long, sort of narrow room with three lockers, the second bearing my last name on it. I changed as fast as I could, and then smoothed my blue-black pixie hair back into place. My bangs stopped midway down my forehead, so they weren't going to be in my face, and the rest I could spike, or just leave it plain like I had it now. Anyway, it wouldn't distract me in case of an emergency, and it was short enough that prisoner would have a hard time yanking my hair to disarm me.

I checked the mirror that hung on the wall and watched my storm-cloud gray eyes stare into the glass. "You can do this." I murmured, nodded an affirmative, then shoved my clothes into the locker and left, ready and nervous to start working.

Yard time had just started, and I strode outside, hat firmly in place, and assessed the situation. Just like Clear Trail, the inmates separated into ethic groups; the weightlifting area belonging to the African-Americans, the bleachers belonging to the most likely racist Caucasians, the Latinos in one corner, and the Italians at a table playing a card game of some sort. My eyes roamed over the yard, and stopped on one person; a tall, well-built man standing near the fence, talking to someone, probably a death row guy, and those two, plus the Latino standing next to them stared at me, all of their expressions conveying at least one part shock.

The one in the middle, the man I first noticed, had closed shaved hair, a dark brownish color, very attractive features, and eyes that seemed to pierce me with their intensity. He muttered somthing to his Latino friend, who nodded and said something back, what it was, I didn't want to know. I tore my eyes away from those three, and found myself staring at the bleachers, where the first man's opposite sat.

This guy was closer, so I could see him more clearly, but that didn't make him one bit less frightening. He had sharp, strangely enticing looks, and mussed up brown hair that matched the goatee he had. His eyes were a deep, dark brown that met mine as I studied him. A smile twitched across his face, and he stood, swatting away a shorter man that had a grip on his pocket.

The five members of his entourage followed him as he walked, well more like _strutted_ over to where I stood. I put a hand on my baton (basically the equivalent of a nightstick), and raised my eyebrow in a silent question as he looked me up and down slowly.

"Well, now look what we have here." His voice drawled in a southern accent that turned his voice to honey, sweet and golden. "We don't get many ladies around these parts anymore." Everyone in hearing distance, basiclly the hundred or so people near us since this guy's voice projected quite well, turned around and watched.

"I don't blame them." I retorted. The guy had something flash through his eyes before he regained his composure.

"A little girl like you could get hurt _very_ easily here, you know." His voice hummed with the almost threat. "Sure wouldn't want something like that to happen to a lovely young thing like yourself." I stepped closer to him, ready to draw my baton. We were the exact height, surprisingly, so I guessed him to be about 5'10 or so, maybe 5'11. We matched eyes and stared each other down.

"I guess that means no midnight cell visits. Your loss." I fired back, and saw the small look of surprise on his face before it turned into a chuckle.

"Better watch that mouth of yours, little girl. I might just take you up on that, although you won't like it as much as I will." He grinned, this time showing his teeth in a creepy sort of leer.

"What's your name, convict?" I asked, a hard edge coming into my voice.

""Did that strike a nerve, pretty?" He laughed, darker than before, and met my eyes once more, but this time, I balanced on the edge of either falling into their moodiness, or bashing his face in.

From across the yard, I heard someone, a guard, yell, "Alright ladies, line up, and go back to your cells! Come on, move it!"

The southern man turned his back to me, and sauntered away, but not before firing a last comment over his shoulder. "That uniform fits you perfectly, but I can't even begin to imagine what you'll look like out of it, pretty. We'll have to find out real soon, won't we?"

I stood there looking after him for awhile, and I'm fairly sure I left score marks on my baton, I gripped it so hard. Rage, fear, and disgust can form a deadly cocktail of emotions, sometimes.

**_XXXXTIME SKIPXXXX_**

A few I hours later, I was walking on the second tier of cells, calling out names and doing the after-dinner cell check, when a soft voice caught my attention.

"Don't let T-Bag bother you." I looked up to find the tall, intense-eyed man looking at me with a small smile on his face. This close, I could see the color of his eyes, which turned out to be a clear, washed out blue.

My mouth quirked in an almost smile. "His name is _T-Bag_?" I felt laughter erupting in my head, and it leaked into my voice slightly. The man in front of me nodded, his teeth showing as he smiled wider, and his smile turned out to be contagious. Soon, I was grinning ear to ear. It fell off my face though, when I noticed the southern man, apparently named T-Bag, was watching us, one arm reaching out through the bars, and resting on one of the horizontal pieces of steel, while the other was shoved deep into his pocket.

"Name?" I asked, running my pen down the roll call.

"Scofield, Michael." he responded instantly, and I checked him and his cellmate, the Latino from earlier named Fernando Sucre, off my list, and moved on, but not before I heard Scofield say, quietly, "Watch out for yourself, and don't get backed into a corner."

"I never will be."

Oh, how wrong I was.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey people! Well, I did this even though it was snowing like a bitch over here in Arkansas, so you better love me! (Joking...maybe.) Anyway this takes place two days after the last chapter, so that means this one is the "Riots, Drills, and the Devil" episode, awesome, huh? (Yeah I skip around a LOT) And I just finished the THIRD season of Prison Break, and yes, I'm an asshole and went on Wikipedia to find out what happens in the 4th season (P.S. I knew Sara wasn't dead already) and I am sorta depressed because Michael dies :( ANYWAY enough of my spoilers, read, enjoy, and review! NOW PLEASE GOD STOP READING THIS AND READ THE CHAPTER!

P.S.S Listen to Nine Inch Nails' Terrible Lie during this chapter. It fits, I think, perfectly. Just keep playing it when it turns off, at least until you finish the chapter. NOW READ! :3

_**Chapter Two: How the Hell Am I Going to Survive This?**_

It's on;y April, and feels like it's the fucking temperature of the sun out here. I quietly thank God for the invention of air conditioning in cars, and curse the world for global warming. I straighten my uniform and head inside the doors of Fox River, sighing at the also ridiculously hot interior of the building. At this point, I'd consider showering with the inmates just to get rid of this sticky, humid feeling. I wave hello to Bob, who is also new, and I stop to chat with him, and he kindly informs me that the A/C went out last night. I pat his shoulder, say goodbye, and swear violently as I make my way into the cell block to survey the damage.

_Holy Christ _it's hot in here, and I would safely bet my paycheck that it's hotter in here than it is outside. I scan the room and notice T-Bag is back from his infirmary vacation, and was happily back in his cell, with the added bonus of a new cell mate_. Poor kid._ I somehow managed to resist the urge to hug the kid, and then to slug T-Bag, who was reclining on the lower bunk. I climbed the stairs, nodded a greeting to the other C.O., which he returned, and I stopped by Michael and Sucre's cell.

"How are you guys taking the heat?" I asked, leaning against the rail surrounding the walkway.

"Hard." Sucre muttered. Michael stayed silent in the cell, his back turned to me. I went back down the stairs, thinking that they would rather be left alone, and heard Geary, the other guard patrolling, be called over by T-Bag.

"You gotta do something about this heat." he said, his face marked by ugly, healing bruises.

"Doing the best we can." Geary replied, taking a drink of his ice water.

"Your best is garbage, it's a hundred degrees in here!"

"Does it look like I got frostbite to you?" A buzzer sounded and we called for the cons to line up, which they did, sluggishly. When Geary turned his back, T-Bag stepped off the line and into the center of the room defiantly.

"Why don't you take us all some place cooler. Like Africa?" A roar of sorts came up from some of the African-American inmates.

"Get your ass back on the line, convict." I ordered and stood my ground. A few more guys stepped out behind T-Bag, who took a few slow steps toward Geary and I.

"We'll move when the temperature situation is rectified."

"Don't be a baby, T-Bag." Geary came forward as well, as if challenging T-Bag. "It ain't that hot." The convict's face turned incredulous.

"Not that hot!" He pointed to a black man near him. "When this guy woke up this morning, he was white!" He grinned as the roar started again. Geary looked at him, angry at the insubordination probably.

"You wanna cool down!" He threw his ice water into T-Bag's face, who stood there, his face a stone wall as Mac appeared from nowhere and shouted for the inmates to get back. T-Bag looked at me and said in a soft, dangerous voice,

"We'll step back when we get some wind blowin' in here." The rest shouted their agreement. Mac and Geary looked at each other, and then at me.

"All right, that's it! Lock down, everyone back in your cells!" Geary shouted over everyone else, but his voice got drowned out in the sea of voices raised in protest. We moved back towards the office, and just in time too, because they swarmed us and climbed over the bars covering the windows. Bellick stormed in behinds us, his eyes wide and his face angry, an understandable emotion by this point.

"Stokstad, go help Bob get Lincoln Burrows from Visitation." he commanded, and I happily obliged.

"Where you going, pretty?" T-Bag called from the wire cage he had climbed on. I just barely managed to repress my shudder and continued on my way.

"My first week, and a riot is about to happen. The fun never fucking stops." I muttered and hurried as fast as I could to Visitation. Bob was already there, and was trying to calm down a petite black haired woman and her companion, a tall, willowy man. _Lawyers, maybe._

"What's going on?" the woman asked, worry and fear fighting in her pretty eyes.

"Ma'am, there is a minor disturbance in A Wing. All visitors need to leave though, but don't worry, we have the situation under control." I wished I could believe that, too. Lincoln Burrows was the muscular man Michael always talked to during yard time, and apparently he was on death row for something, I think it was murder.

"Veronica go to D.C. It's all we have. I'll take care of Michael. Please." he told the woman while another guard escorted her and her companion out. Bob, Lincoln, and I started down the hallway, as calm as ever, and for an insane moment I had the urge to whistle "We're Off to See the Wizard".

"Sorry 'bout cutting you short." Bob said, but Lincoln interrupted him before he got any further.

"Bob, how many times do I have to tell you, don't apologize; it makes you look weak. Now what's going on?"

"Like she said, minor disturbance."

"Minor disturbance, my brother's in Gen Pop, give it to me straight."

"Some clowns breached cell block, but they won't get anywhere." I said when Bob hesitated. Lincoln looked at me, waiting for more. "We always have locked doors at either end, so there's nothing to worry about." Lincoln gave me a nod of thanks, and I noticed his eyes were like Michael's, but slightly darker. _Ah...now I see the family resemblance. He acts nothing like Michael, though..._

"New guy, right? What's your name?" His voice startled me out of my thoughts.

"Kane." I replied, waiting for the all too familiar line.

"Thought it was Katherine or something like that." _There it was._ I smiled wryly because, even in this situation, I got a kick out of people thinking that. It's like they expect that only guys can be named Kane or something.

"That's what everyone says." I said under my breath. We approached the chain link door/fence thing at the top of the stairs and I opened it as the intercom growled into life above us.

"Additional sectors of A Wing have been compromised." My heart raced in my chest as Bob locked the door behind us as I moved forward with Lincoln. I heard a yell and we both looked and saw several inmates rushing towards us, the cells they passed cheering them on. I turned left, hoping to go that way, but T-Bag had just strutted through that door, his cronies just behind him. He almost passed us, but apparently caught a glimpse of us out of the corner of his eye, and he stopped as more of his guys swarmed in behind him. I noticed the ring of keys in his hand, and the metal bar he twirled in the other, and my body went numb for two precious seconds.

"Well I'll be damned." he said slowly. "Two rookie C.O.'s and it ain't even Christmas!" He laughed as if this were all a game. Lincoln turned on Bob, who had a frightening "deer in the headlights" look, and gestured at the key.

"Take the cuffs off." Lincoln demanded, and took the key when Bob didn't move and started working at the lock. "Get out of here, T-Bag." he added nonchalantly, his back turned. The cuffs came off easily, and he turned forward again, his presence somehow comforting as he stood beside me and stared T-Bag down like a rival animal.

"Oh I see, you found them first. Finders Keepers? You know, I respect that, I do. But, I think we can work something out." He came nearer and my already high-strung nerves tightened another notch.

"What you got?" Lincoln asked, and I hoped he didn't mean that, that he was just stalling.

"Oh I can make your last few weeks on Earth quite, quite enjoyable. Get you some Demerol, some X. Make you forget about that big bad chair." he offered, the metal bar still twirling through his fingers. Lincoln shook his head with a small smile.

"No deal."

"You got to learn the art of negotiating. Lesson one: bargaining position." The sound of voices caused me to turn around and see the inmates pushing against the chain door we had passed through an eternity ago. "Yours just changed." My extremities felt cold, like an intravenous ice drip had been started to replace my blood. _Jesus, how the hell am I going to survive this? _I saw of the goons, a tall, thick built man, stare at me, and in his eyes I saw what was mapped out in his mind, and I shivered internally, not that I expected to be taken out to dinner, but God, I felt like I had no chance of coming out of this unscathed.

"Get the pigs!" that same man declared, and tried to come at us, but T-Bag held him back, shouting something I couldn't make out. Near me, I saw Bob tense, and caught him before Lincoln did, which was pretty fast, you have to give the man some credit for lightening fast reflexes.

"What do you think you're doing!" I hissed. "You'll never make it!" I released him after making sure he wouldn't run again, then faced front, putting on a brave face that I didn't feel. Lincoln toyed with the opened handcuff, the clink sounding over and over as T-Bag tried to reason with him, if you could call it that.

"Just chill, Sink. No blood needs to spill, Sink." His arms were open wide as if this were a compromise. I held my breath, a hard thing to do since I was almost hyperventilating quietly, and prayed hard and fast in my head as I scoured my brain for an escape plan. _Hail Mary, full of grace..._

"Then just walk away." Lincoln said, his voice eerily calm and collected like he knew what he was doing. T-Bag glanced back at his guys, then smiled like the goddamn Cheshire Cat.

"We both know that ain't gonna happen."

"Yeah?" _Clink. Clink. Clink._ The cuff spoke in the momentary silence as if voicing its own plan as the "family" formed a half-circle around us.

"You ever see one of those safari shows, where a bunch of cheetahs just jump all up on an antelope?" His moody eyes fell on me again and once more, I could have sworn he was sane. "Guess which one you are?" Lincoln and I stepped forward, side by side in the eye of the storm. He looked off to the side off to the side for a quick second, as if he was too good for this, then headbutted the man in front of him. At the same time, I drew my baton and launched myself at another nearby person. I saw two others grab Bob, but Lincoln needed my help right now much more than he did. Somewhere in the fight's duration I dropped the nightstick and went at them with my fists and my boots, scoring a hit in someone's throat or stomach every now and then while Lincoln took on two at a time without a care in the world, it seemed.

Two guys grabbed Lincoln, one of them punching him in the gut, and that was the one I tackled to the ground football style. I heard a metallic clang and then a thud, and when I looked up from the man I was currently beating half to death, I saw Link was down for the count. "Tough little gorilla, ain't he?" I heard someone say before I was dragged off the man I had hit into unconsciousness. My legs flailed wildly in the air until I was pinned up against the wall near Bob. I bit someones arm in desperation to get out of the corner I was backed into, and was rewarded by someone hitting me in the stomach and across the face so hard I saw stars. I gagged and coughed, trying to breathe in some air to make up for what had been forced out of me. I heard the ripping of fabric and vaguely noticed my guard shirt had been ripped off, leaving only my white t-shirt on.

"Save it! They're mine!" That southern voice spat, and over the sound of my wheezy breathing, I heard my radio, which had been attached to my uniform shirt, crackle into life nearby.

"Sick bay report! Sick bay report, over!" A moment's hesitation and then it was answered.

"All clear in sick bay, over." _Doubtful._ I tried to struggle even harder, needing to get to my radio, but I was stopped by another punch. A warm, muscular arm wrapped around my waist, and I felt myself be dragged along, but my struggles had weakened considerably by this point. I heard the cheers as we entered a cell block, and opened my eyes to see that I was back in A Wing. I was tossed down onto the metal walkway, and pulled myself into a corner where the bars met and formed a turn, all the while clutched my hurting organs, while Bob dragged himself up using the metal bars. T-Bag, our captor, shouted rather loudly over the roar and cheer of those below us.

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen, I assure you, once Bob, Miss Kane, and I are done getting acquainted, everyone else will get their turn!" _How the hell does he know my name?_ He lifted me easily out of the corner and snaked his arm around my middle, his other one being preoccupied with dragging Bob. "We're gonna have some fun." He hefted us to the stairs with little trouble, as if we were life-sized dolls instead of battered and bleeding people. "Don't worry, I ain't got the blickey. My pipes are clean." he continued, as if that would offer us some comfort. I wriggled painfully and managed to throw an elbow into his ribs, causing him to drop Bob and I. I climbed up the stairs, a hand pressed into my aching stomach, and staggered along the second walkway tier, not knowing if Bob was behind me or not. Something dripped into my eye, and when I wiped it away, I discovered that somehow, probably during the fight, I had split my eyebrow open.

"Where you going, rookie?" T-Bag drawled, very close behind. I slipped on a mass of paper covering the grate flooring and slipped, land hard but still trying to move on my hands and knees. "No, no, no, no ,no, no, no. They always think they can run away." Hands grabbed my belt and I twisted like a fish on a line to land on my back. I landed a kick right into T-Bag's gut, making him fall back slightly. He regained his footing and grabbed my leg, sliding me towards him. His face livid, he straddled my stomach and begin to rain blows down on my sides, my face, and anywhere else he could reach. I put up my arms to defend my face and laid there, taking it because there was nothing else I could do. Warm stickiness coursed down the side of my face from my lip...or was it my nose? I couldn't tell as the pain kept coming and coming from everywhere. As a sort of finishing move, T-Bag grabbed the sides of my head and slammed my skull on the floor.

Everything went black for God knows how long, but when it cleared I was aware that I was being thrown on a cell's bottom bunk, landing and flopping down with a whimper. T-Bag gave Bob a solid kick that sent him flying into the metal toilet, which came away in his hands with a muffled crash. The former's eyes went wide as he stepped fully into the cell. I flinched as he brushed by me, but it wasn't me he was interested in, no. What had caught his attention was the ugly hole that was revealed behind where the toilet once stood.

"They're breaking out." he whispered, breathless.

_Goddammit, I did **not** sign up for this._ T-Bag stood and turned, about to announce the hole to the "world" outside, but he was silenced by a figure in the doorway that slammed him against the bunk forcefully.

"Shh." it hushed, and when it moved its head to look at me, I recognized, despite my blurred mind, the face of John Abruzzi, our resident mob boss. He looked surprised to see me there. One of his hands was smooshing T-Bag's face slightly, while the other was wrapped loosely around his neck, an active threat, it seemed.

A shuffling sound came from the hole, and Abruzzi moved away from the southern man as Michael made his appearance.

"Yeah, we-we have a problem." Abruzzi stated as I tried my hardest to sit up against the concrete wall, no small feat since it was like I was on the spinning merry-go-round from hell, and the pain didn't help my cause either.

"Oh that's right. Bob and Kitty here have seen the hole, They gotta go away." T-Bag interjected but I was too tired to correct him as I succeeded in my efforts. Michel tore his gaze away from Bob and I and placed his head against the wall, but not before I caught a glimpse of the stress and worry that haunted his face. To my right, Sucre also exited the hole, his expression similar to Michael's. _It's like the family reunion I never wanted to go to. _

The latter turned around quickly.

"No one's going anywhere." he stated, as if it were law now.

T-Bag advanced and said, "They've _seen _the _hole._"

"So have you." Abruzzi argued.

"Looks like your lock down idea didn't work out too great, huh?" I tried to laugh at the absurdity of Sucre's words, but it quickly dissolved into an agonizing coughing fit. Visions of internal trauma danced through my head as Bob tried to plead with the convicts.

"I have a daughter, _please_." he said, softly.

"We gotta kill them." T-Bag said, ignoring Bob as almost sane voice came into play again.

"I don't think he should get a say in this." I muttered, and spit blood onto the cement floor, causing Abruzzi to move away from me in disgust. Michael looked so stressed, so conflicted that it made my heart ache a little for him. _Goddammit, no! He caused this entire thing! **He's **the reason you're broken like this. _But that nagging voice couldn't sway the fact that I _knew_ Michael would not, no _could not_ let anything happen to Bob and I. He wasn't that kind of person...was he?

"The cops are right outside, and they'll stay outside as long s they know we're keeping them alive."

"But they're _guards._" T-Bag argued, spitting the word "guards" as if it were a curse. "They're gonna squ-"

"What the hell does this have to do with you anyway?" Abruzzi demanded, getting in the shorter man's face. "This is not any of your concern."

"If you two are gonna kiss, the rest of us can leave." I said, struggling to think through the haze that blanketed my thoughts. I was ignored, of course.

"See, Bob and Kitty here know about our secret, they know about _our_ escape. So it's all of our concern now." He shoved past an angry Abruzzi nd exited the cell, Mr. Mob Boss and Michael right behind him. Sucre kneeled in front of me, his face torn between concern and fear.

"You should see the other guy." I said, my words slurring together like a drunk's.

"Yeah, well you're looking pretty bad, mami."

"Such a flatterer." I tried to grin, but it turned into a mask of pain as my split lip made its presence known. Michael entered the cell again, a look of determination carved into his features.

"Sucre, I need you to finish what we started." he ordered and started to climb into the hole.

"Where you going?" Sucre asked, slightly worried.

"Sick bay."

"There's no way into B Wing. We're all locked out," Abruzzi informed us as he came back inside.

"I'm not." He looked at everyone in the tiny cement room, which included T-Bag, Sucre, Bob, Abruzzi, and myself, and said, "No one touches the C.O.'s. _No one._" he commanded, and the five of us watched him go.

T-Bag leaned in close to Mr. Mob Boss after Michael had gone, his eyes hard bits of rusted metal as he asked, "You gonna clue me in?" I noticed, insanely, that our t-shirts lmost matched in some hellish parody of "B.F.F" t-shirts that girls made, and I just barely managed to hold in my hysterical giggles. I reached my right arm over with some difficulty and gave Bob's hand a hopefully reassuring squeeze, because, at this moment, I didn't even know if I'd survive until Michael returned, let alone until help arrived.

_The things you do for your career._

To be continued...


End file.
